An honest homage

Death trudged along;
A lonely hitchhiker
In a very alive world.
A few lives here
And a few there;
It moved on-
Hardly keeping a count.
Somewhere, in this
dispassionate murder of life-
Loved ones were lost.

Simple things are
The most difficult
To say.
Let us try.
There was life.
And then there was none.

No. It doesn’t make the cut.
Let us try again-
Maybe, they are in a better place.
Maybe, there is a heaven
Where good souls socialize.
– that is a pleasurable thought.
All the peddlars of credulity
Would have you believe
In grey heavens
and afterlives-divine.
Belief is easy.
Should we try belief?

What is a soul?

I am because-
I think.
I think because-
I can.
And that is all there is.
To think and to believe
Are very different things.

Shall we try again, then?
It is necessary
To document
Good lives.
Is otherwise
A drudgery of wars
And deaths.

There was a man.
And now he is dead.
There is a void
Where kindness once was.
Death was not vengeful.
It was life
That was-
And yet simple;
He did well. He was true to himself.
We will leave it at that.


Ask me about the weather

Let us conceal ourselves
Within words –
Words have a way
Of concerning themselves
With the mundane.
Otherwise, why would I
Have thought
Of the weather,
When the silences
That embraced us
To bind – us
In its understanding
Of pain.
Let us look away.
The clouds are far too many
In the sky.
Ask me about the weather again –
Let me not lose
That thought-
It is nonchalant.

Tonight –

Slipping into night’s embrace,
I hug the moonlight tight.
A little of it slips away,
With pains of another day.

Canopies of leaves above,
Crack open at every sigh.
They let in a thousand eyes
That reflect on mine.

I hold myself closer,
And let me be;
Soon I find,there is no other.
It is only me.

What you invest in the day,
Dies west – everyday.
The night is for the soul;
To cleanse and to be whole.

Tomorrow, I may struggle again.
My woe may not yet abdicate.
But tonight,I will be whole again.
Though,tears and dew- I couldn’t separate.